He was so unspeakably happy and relieved to see her there, it slipped his mind to ask perhaps the most obvious questions. Certainly the many gawking passersby would have asked. They also would have expected others to do the same rather than choosing to join the object of said gawking. Luckily, Danny was beyond tired of worrying about what other people thought in such matters. (Finally… His indifference was hard won; at one time, he worried about it too much and let it get in the way. Not anymore.)

Its not that it didn't occur to him, he just had better things to do. He thought of it, right before he instead stopped her lips with his own as she began to list the muse-inspired names she wanted for their nine future daughters. That, naturally, made it hard for him to ask, what with having his mouth against hers and what have you. For this he could hardly be faulted, though; the time since he last kissed her was simply too long and too much – he couldn't be held up by pesky if logical inquiries. (Not to mention, nine daughters? Who does that anymore? It's not like they were trying to have their own reality show, for Pete's sake, although Mindy would love that. He might be Catholic but even he drew the line somewhere…)

Of course, while he was kissing her, his mind was too busy being wiped clean of anything but Mindy to worry about asking any questions at all. Not that there wasn't a fleeting thought here and there like just how ridiculously much he'd missed kissing her, how her lips were softer and she inexplicably tasted better than he remembered, how much he wanted to keep kissing her as often as possible for the rest of his life, especially when she did that particular thing with her tongue and made that particular sound. The one that made him want to get her naked, could easily make him hard in seconds if caught unawares… the one that was definitely more suited to the bedroom than the floor of the observation deck at the Empire State Building (much like kissing).

"You know, I'm serious about having nine daughters," she said against his mouth.

"Here we go, one boy– Anthony Francis."

"Anthony Francis?! What is he, gonna become the pope?"

"What!? That's offensive. Just because there's a Pope Francis right now doesn't mean anything. He'd go by 'Tony' anyway." Mindy huffed irritably, looking ready to launch into a lengthy diatribe no doubt concerning her views on old fashioned names and how he was clearly wrong; muse names and having nine daughters to bear those names was clearly the way to go. And really, he just wanted to get back to kissing her, so he grabbed her arm, pulled it around his neck and started nuzzling her ear to distract her. "What do you say we fight this out later, Min?"

She nodded faintly, already preoccupied by his lips tickling her jaw. "Fine, but I'm going to win in the end, you should just accept it."

"Uh-huh, sure you are…" He whispered before licking at the corner of her mouth.

Added to the turn on of arguing with her was the heady sensation of her curves under his hands for the first time in what felt like ages. Earlier, he couldn't quite keep from running his hand beyond the plane of her hip as he pulled her closer, down and over her ass for a brief squeeze and up her side as their lips fumbled together eagerly. If he had his druthers, he'd have maneuvered one of them on top of the other, allowing gravity to do the work of pressing them together more intimately.

As much as he wanted that, there was just enough blood left in his brain to remember that they were, unfortunately, still in public and getting arrested for indecency was probably not the best way to begin a newly mended relationship. Eventually this fact, the need to be alone with her, and the discomfort of the concrete beneath them filtered through his senses enough that he slowed the pace of their lips and drew away from her. Once he did, the questions he'd been holding back wanted to come all at once.

"Hey… Why are you on the floor? You okay? And where are your shoes– and your coat?" He gazed down at her face, noting smugly the rather lust-dazed look in her eyes before she spoke.

"Well," she squeaked even higher than usual. She cleared her throat and swallowed, her hands making a motion in front of her like she was pushing down her libido. (All of this inevitably made him want to start kissing her again.) "The elevators were down when I got here, so I had to take the stairs. It was faster without my heels and they were pinching, so I ditched them. And then I got hot, so I took my coat off…" Her voice had gone from a tone more suited to giving a report to quiet embarrassment as he started chuckling. Of course that would happen to her the one time she actually was meeting the love of her life here. And make no mistake, he was that guy, the love of her life. All that was left was to convince her he was that guy.

"Wait, so... You walked up over 100 floors for me?" He teased softly in surprise, catching her hand that was still somewhat sandwiched between them. Given the vehemence of her refusal, he was inwardly thrilled she'd expended this amount of effort on his behalf. The emotion he'd tamped down earlier threatened to resurface and he covered with humor. "No wonder you're laying down." Her other hand swiped at him as he leaned away with a grin.

"Shut up!" She spat. "And yes I did that for you, you idiot! Not because you deserve it, that's for sure, but because… I don't know… I kind of – I – I love you, too." Danny exhaled in a silent laugh that was almost a cry, feeling a strange release of inner tension he didn't know he carried. Maybe she didn't need convincing after all.

"Yeah?" There it was again, that stubborn lump in his throat.

"Yeah." Her eyes were shining now too. "Of course! Why else would I be here, Danny?"

He swallowed hard. "You… you 'kind of' love me?"

"Yes! Isn't it obvious? I mean, you know I didn't do it for the cardio," she said with an affectionate eye roll, "because I fired my personal trainer not long ago – he was too distracted by my incredible body," she drilled a finger into his shoulder, "Although, come to think of it, how much hotter would I be if I did that all the time? I bet I burned like a week's worth of calories. I would definitely be able to pull Kiera Knightly. You might even have some competition, Danny."

He shook his head, a soft smile tugging his mouth as she spoke, marveling at how this peculiar habit of hers, so unbearably annoying to him in the beginning, could thoroughly charm him now. Once again, he spoke past a tightness in his throat that gave his voice a rough quality that had little to do with seduction.

"I don't think you could be any more beautiful than you are right now."

Mindy blinked up at him in awe, rendered speechless at this statement. Even in their brief time as a pseudo-couple, he'd never been prone to overtly romantic declarations. For that matter, he hadn't been prone to them as a part of any couple, pseudo or otherwise, except maybe during the early days of his marriage. But this? This fell so simply from his lips, he surprised even himself and hoped she wouldn't doubt for a moment how deeply he meant the words. Really, it was the understatement of the year. Maybe it was just because he loved her, but he really couldn't imagine her being any lovelier than with her hair spilled around her like a sultry cloud over the pavement, her cheeks flushed lightly from exertion, and her eyes shining with love and amusement, all softly lit by the night lights of the city. Even with an old cigarette butt and discarded pizza box near her head, she was radiant.

As he bent to kiss her again, his heart was so full he felt giddy. It was almost surreal to be in the midst of the long awaited culmination of all the carefully laid, screwed up, and rerouted plans that had brought them here. From the moment he sat next to her as she first read the "Was It You?" he'd posted, to hiding a smile behind his office door before encouraging everyone to trust her judgement, to the agony of hearing her use his own words against him through the bathroom door, only this time regarding their relationship instead of hers with Cliff; from staring dejectedly at his laptop, too frozen with remorse to email her as 'Andy' to cancel their meeting, to taking care of her when she caught a cold waiting for him, to nearly coming clean, to wanting so badly to hold her hand or kiss her as they traipsed around the city together for weeks – as difficult as all of it had been, he would gladly repeat all of that and more to get to this place right here. A few short hours ago he'd been kicking himself in the depths of disappointment, terrified that he'd once again managed to ruined this. Now he was as close to ecstatic as he felt it was possible for him to be.

Hell, maybe this is ecstasy, he thought as her hand slid back into his hair. Yeah. That sounds about right. Who better to experience that with than the woman he loved? After all, he definitely wanted more than the temporary delights given say, in the throes of a mind-blowing orgasm… Although, he definitely wanted to experience that with her again. As soon as possible.

At the moment, though, she was warm and responsive in his arms, her swollen mouth synced with his as they made out like teenagers. All of this, he would gladly take in lieu of sex if need be. (Another reason he was clearly a goner when it came to her.) So many times he'd tried to remember the feel and taste of her kiss but his memory hadn't done it justice. Her lipstick had long worn off and he tasted the fruity sweet remnants of her favorite lip balm as he caught her lower lip and sucked it firmly, eliciting a gasp that did nothing to mitigate his arousal. Before he thought better of it he hummed into her mouth. "Mmmm. I missed you."

"You missed me? Danny, we see each other nearly everyday and we've been spending the majority of our free time together. I even saw you a few hours ago!" She was genuinely surprised by this admission.

"I know but– it's not the same. That was before I knew you loved me too. I just– I dunno, I missed this. Kissing you. Holding you. Just being able to touch you the way I've wanted to." For emphasis, his hand slid down to her backside again, enjoying the way her fluttered when he did. He eyed the gap between the top buttons of her pink dotted blouse through which he could see the soft inner curve of her breast, and wished desperately they were alone so he could release it and kiss his way down her body.

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He sighed as another group of tourists gaped at them before passing through the doors to the elevators. "Speaking of which, we should get out of here before this goes any further."

"Okay. We should. We've probably scandalized enough people for one night– and I'm getting cold. Oh God, how are we going to find my shoes, Danny? I can't take anymore stairs! My legs are spaghetti. And those are one of my favorite pairs of red heels."

"One of them?" He laughed. "Do you even need them back?"

She gave him a purposefully blank look. "Are you being– are you trying to be funny? Because I see no humor in that."

"Right. Any idea what floor you were on?"

"I think it was around 75 or so… I remember a sign that had 'turn back' written on it which was pretty frightening," she recalled with a grimace. He helped her stand and kept one of her hands firmly in his own, lacing their fingers with a significant look, grateful he could do so now without freaking her out. Mindy reflexively pursed her lips at him, an action that drove him crazy and made him wish they hadn't gotten up.

As luck would have it, security was sensitive to their situation. Of course, the emphatic retelling of their 'epic love story' on the part of Mindy might have helped. Initially, Danny attempted to reign in her enthusiasm if only for the sake of brevity but after hearing her call him the future father of her beautiful mixed-race babies, he found himself just smiling like a fool as she spoke.

For months now, longer than he cared to admit really, he'd been consumed by a rather singular image: Mindy, in one of her trademark colorful outfits, with a belly rounded by pregnancy with his child. At first he'd been understandably terrified because the thought first popped into his mind long before he could even consciously acknowledge his attraction to her. At first, he wrote it off as a weird by-product of his profession; being surrounded by pregnant women and new babies gave a guy some odd mental images, sure; that, long hospital hours, cheap coffee, and sleeplessness created its own special kind of crazy thinking. In moments when his defenses were down, he was exhausted, or if she'd been particularly annoying that day, he would find himself idly wondering how their very different genetics would combine in a child. Then, of course, he would stop, mentally shake himself for being a moron, and chalk it up to all her ceaseless talk about how adorable her babies with Michael Fassbender would be. Not that he thought he was anything like that guy, but still.

Once, she'd told him to accept the fact that he was meant to be a father. Granted, she'd based this partially on his tendency to call a wallet a billfold, but he'd known it was more than that. Mindy innately supported him in what she considered to be an inevitability. She told him this despite the fact that he, in turn, had once made her feel she was running out of time to have children, back in the days before they were even remotely friendly. Yet what she took to be self-evident was something he was starting to worry would never happen, a thought that depressed the hell out of him.

Even though he knew logically men can have children well into their golden years, he never wanted to be a father who was too old to participate when he took his son to little league (or dance class) or his daughter to… well, dance class (or little league). He wanted to be a present father, one that was annoying and involved in his kids' lives if only because he loved them too much not to be. That would be hard to do if he was sixty-five. He felt this way even before he'd made peace with is own father while simultaneously discovering he had a ten-year-old half-sister. As magnanimous as he was currently feeling toward the guy, he couldn't help but feel his dad was once again providing him with an example he very much did not want to follow. For years it had been that he didn't want to be a man who walked out on his family. Now, he was even more sure he didn't want to be his father's age with a daughter that young. (Even though he could begrudgingly admit that his father at least seemed to have finally figured out parenting. Little Dani seemed like a good kid.)

At some point, however, he realized Mindy was the only woman it was happening with. He would get to the end of another relationship and realize he hadn't ever imagined his potential progeny with the woman involved in more than maybe a vague sense. This was true even of Christina; they'd planned on having children once their careers were more settled, but he never really visualized it. It was always more of a nebulous, hazy someday in his mind and he was thankful now she'd never gotten pregnant accidentally.

Once he admitted he was in love with Mindy, he gave in to the idea, indulged it even. It became common for him to spend a few extra moments looking at a newborn, trying to pick which specific features, or which baby looked the most like it could be theirs. It tended to happen more often with an infant of mixed race or darker skinned parentage, but sometimes just a dark head of hair or a child with a nose or long fingers like hers would cause his chest to tighten and he would wonder.

This desire was something he'd never experienced before. He heard once that people who are ambivalent about having kids tend to change their mind when they meet the right person – someone they want kids with. Now he understood what it meant to want to experience the wonder of it all with someone because of that someone, to see the fruition of nine months in a tiny human with miniature versions of their features in a totally unique combination and to see that person grow over time. And he could see that with Mindy, wanted that with her more than he expected to want anything ever again.

After ten minutes or so, security had more details about their lives than they probably knew what to do with or needed to hear, courtesy of one Mindy Lahiri. (This included the fact that not only had Danny 'ambushed' her on an airplane, made her knees weak from said ambush, he'd then proceeded to basically give her a swirly in the lavatory, only to break her heart not long after… this earned some very confused looks from the guard.) The two guards manning the observation deck relayed information via radio to the control room. (Unsurprisingly, it took them much less time to do this than it took her to tell the story initially.) After confirming their identities, it was determined Danny and Mindy were not, in fact, terrorists or ne'er-do-wells of the nefarious kind. (Mindy was asked, however, if she was the same woman who had necessitated a SWAT response based on certain Homeland Security trigger words she used under interrogation during an incident a few years ago… Mindy nearly admitted it was her until Danny intervened, saying loudly that they'd heard about it at Schulman and Associates and had all had a good laugh at the unknown woman's expense.)

At long last, they received approval for a solution to their predicament. As the floors between the lobby and the observation deck were generally made up of business offices, the elevator system was designed to limit access during off hours. Similarly, the doors that lead to these floors from the stairwell locked magnetically at a designated time. Security personnel had keys that would override both of these functions, making it possible to take the elevator closest to the stairs down to the floors where Mindy thought her belongings might be.

In the meantime, Danny had noticed the dull ache on his right side becoming steadily more intense. As her coat was located on the 72nd, and shoes on the 68th floor, he was beginning to grit his teeth a little against the pain, hiding his concern at how rapidly it was progressing. Somehow, in the midst of his frantic race to get to her, he'd forgotten about being hit by a cab on his way here. It had been a little over an hour since then and it just seemed to keep getting worse.

Mindy beamed at him as she reentered the elevator with the security guard, having found and slipped back into her red shoes. He smiled back, breathing deeply as his heart tripped again at the sight of her. As he inhaled, a sharp stab of pain lanced through his side, causing a hitch in his breath. Her brow furrowed and she stepped forward, raising a hand to his face.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He smiled reassuringly, pressing a kiss to her palm.

"Me too." She moved beside him, bringing her arm up to slide around his waist. Her hand bumped near his belt and he hissed in pain.

"Danny, what is it?" She asked, pulling her arm back.

"I think the endorphins and adrenaline have worn off," he grunted.

"What? Adrenaline? What are you talking about?" Her eyes had gone wide in alarm.

"I kind of– Um." He paused, hesitant to ruin the good mood they were both still riding. "I got hit by a cab on my way here…" he muttered sheepishly.

"Wait– what?"

"I was running here from–"

"Running here? When? You ran here from the office?"

"No…"

"From where, then?"

"From– You know, the…" He gesticulated helplessly.

"No, I don't know. You mean you weren't waiting up there for me before you found me on the floor? Waiting all night, like you said you would – even if I said no? God, Danny–"

"– I waited! I did! I would have waited all night but I– I kept... seeing that look you had when you said you had plans to not be the stupidest person in the world and I just – I was so sure you weren't gonna come."

"How long?" She asked flatly, crossing her arms.

"What?"

"How long did you wait?" Her voice was dangerously low. He sighed.

"An hour…"

"Wha–" She screeched indignantly.

"–But then I ran into everyone from the office and they said you were headed here so I ran. I ran all the way here. And then on the way, there was this guy who opened his car door in front of me, I turned around and – bam!– I got… hit by a cab." His hands slapped together to represent the collision. Hers came up to stop him.

"You ran into everyone? Ran into them where?" Her eyes narrowed as she waited for his answer. Wincing, he blew out a second exasperated breath, reminding himself that she deserved an explanation and probably would have found out anyway.

"I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast really so I was grabbing a slice when they all walked by... Can we get back to the part where I was hit by a cab?"

"A slice? A slice of p– Oh, Danny! Seriously? You left to get pizza?! I should have known– it was way too romantic for you! You said you'd wait all night!"

"I know, I know! I'm–I'm… I'm sorry, alright?" He scratched the back of his neck. "I wanted to do that, I would have done that for you. But I– I couldn't stand it, Min – waiting there, not knowing. I didn't know what to do..."

"Yeah. It sucks doesn't it?" She said pointedly. Her arms were crossed again and he knew they were no longer talking about tonight. He froze, searching for something to say. After a moment, her shoulders and face relaxed until she looked more tired than angry. For the thousandth time, he kicked himself for hurting her. "You should have said something sooner. Seriously," she sighed. "Don't think for a second that this gets you off the hook, because it doesn't. And if you die of complications from getting hit by a cab while you were running through the city trying to prove that you love me? I will kill you."

The security guard was regarding them with raised eyebrows during the entire exchange. "You sure you two aren't already married? Sure sounds like you are," he muttered quietly.

"Okay, sir… you seriously have no idea how long it's taken us to get to even this level of civility. Trust me, this is kindness. And probably ten years from now, we'll sound pretty much the same," she replied irritably, but he could tell she was fighting back a smile. She thanked the guard again as they passed the line of people still queueing in the lobby before pausing near the public restrooms. "Alright, Danny. Lets take a look…" She switched instantaneously to doctor mode, pulling his shirt from his waistband in a detached, clinical manner.

Sure enough, a purple bruise was visible, spreading in a half-moon above the waist of his jeans. She clucked softly in concern. "See how much I love you?" He tried, jumping as she palpated it gently. "Even getting hit by a car didn't stop me." She squinted at him in disbelief.

"Okay… Seems like internal bleeding might, though. It's a shame, too… I was going to take you home and do some things that would have blown your mind. But now? Guess all that sexual energy we were building will have to wait 'cause we are going to the hospital. No arguing." He nodded reluctantly, but perked up at the mention of things happening between them as they walked out.

"You were gonna blow my mind? How do you know I wasn't gonna blow yours?" He quipped, grabbing her hand.

"Please, we both know I'm far more amazing in bed than you are," she smirked, eyebrows drawing up and together.

"Oh, you think so?"

"I do."

"Maybe we should put that to the test. I mean, what sort of things did you have in mind?" He murmured against her ear as he tugged her to fall back into him.

"Oh no, that is not happening, my friend."

"Wha-"

"Noooope."

"Not even a hint?" He whined. She smiled wickedly, walking ahead of him a few steps.

"Boy, what is it about you being sick or injured that makes you so horny? You were just as perverted when you had meningitis… 'Just graze it', I believe you said." She lowered her voice and over emphasized an accent to mimic him. "Is it the threat of death, Danny? Do you need sex to affirm your life for you?"

"No."

"Glad to hear it."

"No, I just need you."

She stopped, making him bump into her slightly. Before he could say anything more, she turned, her free hand slipping up his arm to the nape of his neck before she leaned into him, their mouths crashing hurriedly, her tongue darting immediately to caress his. He thought later it was like the best possible kind of ambush, to use her word; a full-frontal sensory invasion by a woman who knew exactly how to turn him on.

Their joined hands released simultaneously and she gripped his arm, encouraging him to press himself against her. When he gripped her hips and did just that, she rolled them against him and did the same with her chest, effectively rubbing all of her body along his frame. Just when he was starting to hope she was going to forget about the hospital, she pulled away and nipped lightly at his chin. At the same time, her hand came up surreptitiously between them, grazing the front of his jeans with the back of her hand. It was her turn to pull away smugly now, leaving Danny looking like he'd just been hit over the head with a stupid stick. He stared at her like she'd grown another head, wondering where the hell that had come from.

"Yep, it definitely would have been me blowing your mind. That was just a preview. And just so you know, it is really not fair for you to say something like that to me when I can't follow up on it and jump you because you might be dying," she whispered hotly. "Come on, we're getting a cab."